


Account Unlocked

by Tarn_Liberated



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Come Inflation, Fluff and Smut, Hand & Finger Kink, Kinks, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Polyamory, Porn Video, Size Kink, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22781470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarn_Liberated/pseuds/Tarn_Liberated
Summary: Rodimus finds out more of Ultra's past in the form of some home-made porn videos.  What else is he to do but find out more by watching them. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Relationships: Optimus Prime/Ultra Magnus/Ratchet, Rodimus/Ultra Magnus
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something super old I wrote and never published. I don't know if I'm gonna finish it but it's all just pure kinks. Magnus and Rodimus are already in a relationship when he finds the video fyi.

Rodimus was supposed to give the box to Magnus, but he made him mad so he promptly chucked the box into the corner of his room and slept. It wasn’t until two days later when he was searching for something to bide his time that he found it and decided to go through its contents. Some figurines from famous places long destroyed, jewels and crystals of cut varieties and a few rings, some expensive fabrics still clean and smelling faintly of something pleasant, and at least ten datapads. Rodimus flicked them on one by one and grimaced at the contents, all written receipts to plays and expensive dining, documents on high grade that had him sputtering. Where were _those_ at? He wanted something fun to do - or to drink - not read through stuffy formal files and…

Rodimus settled back, an innocent looking pad in his hand with a big “locked” screen. What could this be? He entered in a few passwords randomly, all obviously wrong and denied him access. He tapped his finger against his lower lip and hummed. 

One trip to Drift had him redirected to Red Alert and after hearing about some mystery information on this document he found that could possibly have troubling information on it had the Security Direction hacked in in seconds. Rodimus snatched the ‘pad back before he could get a peek. He promised him that if he found anything suspicious he’d be the first to know and went back to his room.

He settled down and crossed one leg over the other. What could Ultra Magnus and Ratchet have the was so secretive? If it were medical reports they would provide such a boring read he wouldn't even skim through it. He’d chuck it back in the box and give the whole thing to Magnus whenever he remembered next.

Instead, there were four videos and Rodimus picked the first one. It showed Optimus Prime on a berth with a happy smile on his face. “Is it acceptable now?”

“Nearly.” Magnus’ voice came from behind the camera. “Move to the left a bit.”

The Prime grinned and did as told, pushing the blankets to a corner of the bed. He gave it a second thought and picked up the thick fabric, “Do you think we should do this on the ground? We have enough fabric here and in the closet.”

“Sound levels are moderate. I suppose we could but I have the camera perfectly centered.”

Optimus swung his legs over the side and nodded. “Of course. All your hard work would be for naught.” Ultra Magnus must have done something because Optimus froze for a second, sitting with one leg curled on the bed and the other dangling over the side. The light shifted an infinitesimal amount, barely enough to be noticeable, and he heard Magnus give a grunt of approval. “Perfect?”

“As close to perfect as it can be.”

Optimus swung his other leg over and sat on the berth edge. “Are you going to call him now?”

“Yes, the energon is in the fridge and the extra files are right...hm.”

Optimus gestured off screen. “Are those the external data packets?”

“They are.”

Magnus’ footsteps wandered behind the camera and he finally came into view, fumbling with a data packet and a very old drone. He had a frustrated look on his face and Optimus stood, leaning over to see what he was working on. 

Rodimus hummed at the scene, unsure of what was going on but feeling happy about the way it was playing out. A frustrated Magnus was a funny one.

“We don’t have to use it.”

“We probably won’t.” It snapped in his hands and Magnus’ jaw dropped. “I barely…”

Optimus laughed and stepped back, biting his lip to quiet himself. Magnus carefully unfurled his hands and pieces crumbled to the floor between his fingertips. “It’s all right, Magnus.”

“I barely applied force to the wings. It...I…” Magnus huffed and puffs of smoke spewed from his smokestacks. 

Optimus placed his hand over Magnus’ own and took the broken chunks from him. “It’s okay. I’ll clean this up.” He smiled at the camera. “This is staying in.”

“What?” Magnus’ head whipped around from Optimus to the camera. “No, nothing is happening. The only thing we’ve accomplished is breaking a drone.”

“Ratchet will love it.” 

Rodimus smile dropped off of his face when he saw Optimus lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek. Did he just see that? Was that something that really happened? Did he say _Ratchet_?

The corner of Magnus’ lip twisted and he sighed. “If you wish.”

“I do.” Optimus crouched to pick up the bigger pieces and Magnus said something about getting a broom. He walked out of sight and Optimus waited until the door shut to turn to the camera and wink.

Rodimus stared in confusion at the video and watched Optimus and Magnus clean up the drone, tuning Magnus out when he brought up editing the video again. Were Optimus and Magnus in a relationship with Ratchet? Were they in a relationship with each other? _How long ago was this video?_ He skipped forward a bit and watched them sit on the couch and talk quickly, segments of their plating twitching as the video sped up time.

When they turned to face the camera and include it on the conversation Rodimus was able to spot an honest to Primus smile on Magnus’ face before the video went off. 

His finger tapped over the second video and he felt his plating heat up when he saw Magnus and Optimus in the middle of a groping session. Magnus’ thick fingers rubbed Optimus’ array roughly and the Prime had his arms looped around Ultra’s neck, kissing him passionately.

Well. This was a part of Ultra’s past he never knew.

Or Optimus Prime’s. 

He uncrossed his legs and checked to make sure the door was locked before settling down against the headboard of his berth. 

Optimus held Magnus’ lip between his teeth and smiled, snapping back his interface panel. Magnus kissed him and pulled away to nose his neck, sucking on the cables there as he shoved three fingers into his Prime. 

Rodimus moaned and reached down to rub at his plating, optics locked onto the scene. Magnus had always used a single finger at first and only then he ever went up to two. 

Optimus had his spike pressurized and Magnus knelt between his legs, taking Optimus’ spike into his mouth and down his intake in one motion. Rodimus groaned the same time Optimus shouted. He saw Magnus’ fingers piston in and out of Optimus’ valve while he drew back on the spike until he could kiss the tip and suck on the head. The Prime fell apart under him and Magnus ran his tongue along the wide shaft of the Prime’s spike until he replaced his fingers with his mouth at Prime’s valve. Magnus’ wet fingers slid up the red and blue spike now covered in oral lubricant, giving it a few firm strokes before it teased the seams at his thigh. Optimus bit his knuckles and jacked himself off while Magnus’ rubbed his anterior node as his tongue stroked deep inside of his valve. Optimus came with a shout and Magnus quickly placed his mouth over his spike to catch his transfluid. 

Rodimus watched the way he swallowed and bobbed his head to gather every bit while his fingers pulled back and disappeared between his own legs. Rodimus was overheated. He popped back his interface panel and wrapped his servo around his spike, drawing up his legs to place the datapad against his knee. 

Magnus kissed Optimus again and the two broke apart to look past the camera. 

“Don’t mind me, continue.”

Optimus smiled while the corner of Ultra’s lip quirked up. They turned to each other and Optimus pushed his leg between Ultra’s thighs. Magnus rutted against him and panted, hips wiggling to get more friction. He stilled himself and gave an open mouth pant before prying himself away, massive spike dribbling not a small amount of transfluid.

“Ratchet.” 

The red and white mech, looking considerably younger and at ease, came into the picture. “Do you need _medical assistance_?”

“ _Yes_.” Magnus begged, then shook his head. “I…”

Optimus made room on the bed and Ratchet settled in his lap, the two facing their eager lover. “Come, let’s see what’s wrong with you.”

Magnus was shaking. “T-this was supposed to be for you. I - we - got a bit carried away and -”

“Shush,” Ratchet took Magnus’ spike in his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. Tell me what’s ailing you.”

Magnus moaned and placed his hands on Ratchet’s shoulders, embarrassed look on his face. “Doctor. Help me.”

“What hurts?” 

Magnus lips pursed and it was clear he was getting off on the act but remained flustered about it. “My interface array is hot.”

“Hm, I’ll have to take a look and perform a thorough examination.” Ratchet’s skilled fingers danced over his spike and gave it a light tug. Magnus arched and shuttered his optics. “I think I might know what the problem is but I’ll need a second suggestion.” Ratchet glanced over his shoulder at the Prime and cocked his head to the side. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s suffering from a pressurized spike and prolonged teasing.”

Ratchet nodded and held onto Magnus hip, slowly rubbing him off with his other hand, thumb circling the tip and gathering beads of transfluid. “What do you think the treatment should be?”

“A good nights rest.” Optimus beamed.

“Optimus does not qualify as a medic.” Ultra was quick to blurt out, “And therefore his suggestions should not be taken into account.”

Ratchet chuckled and kissed the center of Magnus’ chest, thumb rubbing harder into the growing flow of transfluid and rubbing it between his fingers. “Do you hear that Optimus? He doesn’t care for your call.” Magnus whimpered. “If not teasing then what do you think caused this to happen?”

“That’s not…” Magnus bucked into his hand and forced himself to still when Ratchet clicked his tongue. 

“Hm,” Optimus perched his chin on Ratchet’s shoulder and gave the blue and white spike a critical look. “I think it might be an overfilled transfluid tank.” Ratchet’s optics flashed brighter and Magnus pulled his hands free from Ratchet’s shoulders to clench his hands into needy fists. “I think the best course of action would be to assist him by emptying it in a professional manner.”

Ratchet allowed Optimus to wrap his arms around his chassis and pull him against his frame. He tugged him back until he was lying against his front and Magnus waited for instruction, frame audibly crackling with energy.

“ _Or in a professional_.”

Ratchet let out a breathy sigh and nodded quickly. Magnus crawled over the two and kissed Ratchet, his servos moving to his thighs to coax his panels open faster. Optimus whispered in Ratchet’s audial as Magnus mouthed at Ratchet’s stomach and Prime ground his spike between the medics legs. Ratchet’s engine revved hard and sputtered when Magnus took his red fingers into his mouth. His glossa ran wetly over the digits and Magnus provided the same treatment to his digits as he did Optimus spike. The blue glossa flicked between his thumb and finger and grazed his teeth against the metal lightly, sucking while he rubbed his spike against Ratchet’s thigh.

The medic relented and spread his legs, spike pressurizing against his belly and valve already dribbling with lubrication. Optimus reached down with one hand and started to finger the smallest mech, kissing his neck, cheek, and whatever else he could reach. Magnus noted the long fingers that spread Ratchet wide for him and pulled one of the medic’s fingers into his mouth as he nudged the thick head of his spike against Ratchet’s array.

His free servo grabbed onto Ratchet’s hip and held him still while he forced himself inside slowly, optics shuttering. Ratchet grabbed onto Ultra and pulled him down, clawing at his back and urging him to hurry. When Ultra fully sheathed himself there was a tiny _bulge-_

Rodimus suddenly overloaded and slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his whine, sending the datapad tumbling off of his lap and onto the berth. He moaned and pawed at himself to continue the rolls of ecstasy that sent his transfluid splattering against his stomach and his valve oozing thick lubricant between his feet. 

He panted and scrambled to turn off the datapad, staring at his dark reflection in the screen.

Slag him, there was no way he was going to be able to look Ratchet or Ultra Magnus in the optics without thinking of that video.

He should not have done this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus feels a little guilty about watching the private videos but he's come too far to stop now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drift may be a moral compass but unfortunately for both of them Rodimus refuses to read. Also a sprinkling of plot because I can't write smut without some sort of buildup apparently.

A drink would do him good. He set the datapad aside as if it were fine glass, knowing what secrets lied behind the screen and headed out to Swerve’s bar. 

On the way he thought about what he’d done. The videos weren’t meant for him to see - they had it blocked behind a password strong enough that it took Red Alert a hot minute to figure out - but surely he was given a bit of leeway? He was courting Ultra Magnus now. This was a part of his past he hadn’t known about and it was important that they knew more about each other. His past partnership with Ratchet and Optimus gave him some intel he never thought about - their previous dates and flings. He was open to being with more than one individual and they seemed to know each other very well at the time the video was made.

The way Magnus’ groped along Optimus’ body during their heavy makeout session clued Rodimus in on just _how well_ they knew each other.

He slapped his cheeks and tried to rid his mind of what he’d seen. Deep down he knew he should stop while he was ahead. He had no business watching the rest of that clip or the other ones. He paused just before the entrance to Swerve’s bar at the thought of the other videos. 

Before it could evolve into something more, the door opened and he flinched, peering up at Cyclonus as he passed by with Whirl at his side. Right. He wanted a drink. He snagged whatever Swerve’s Mix of the Day was and slid into a booth by himself, practically drowning himself in the acidic liquid. Primus what the hell was this? He grimaced down at his mostly emptied glass and gave it a swirl. Divine punishment is what this was.

“Not to your liking?” He perked up at Drift’s voice, cracking a smile as his friend sat down across from him with a glass of the same concoction. 

Rodimus braced himself and finished off the last few gulps. “It’s horrendous.”

“I don’t know. I kind of like it.” His tanks churned and Drift took a sip, “I thought you turned in for the night? Something on your mind?”

There was _so much_ on his mind. He tapped his fingertips against the glass and sank back in his seat. Not that he would tell Drift, no, if he did he would tell him it was wrong to watch the videos and he should give it back to Ratchet. Rodimus wanted to enjoy this while he could, not get guilt tripped into doing the right thing. He would bet Drift would be curious about the videos and want to see them but he’d insist Rodimus knew what he should do. 

No, what he should _really do_ was head back to his room to watch the rest of the video. He could go for another overload. The video was good material. _And the other ones._ He hadn’t even seen what was on _those_ yet. Were they more interface videos? Did they record multiple sessions? What if they were little scenes like the one Ultra Magnus and Optimus shared where they just talked? He’d be so sad. 

In the video, Optimus said ‘Ratchet would love this’ so had they made the video specifically for him? Were all of the videos focused on him? He heard rumors of the medics promiscuous nature before the war but he had yet to really see any evidence of it now. Ratchet wasn’t exactly fond of him. What would he think of Rodimus watching his private tapes? 

Ratchet would beat his aft. Rodimus tried to take another drink as he weighed the pros and cons of getting whooped by his medical officer and sneered at the empty glass. 

“Rodimus?”

“Hold on, I need another drink.” He ordered a much larger quantity of high grade and leaned down to Swerve when he came back with a pitcher of something neon gold, “I have a fun question bud, who would win in a fight, me or Ratchet?”

“Oh, Ratchet.” Swerve said easily, “He’s got mass and I bet he knows all the painful parts to hit if he wants to fight dirty.”

Rodimus spluttered, “I know how to fight!”

“Yeah but Ratchet’s fought a lot more than you have.” Swerve propped his elbows on the counter and arched an optic ridge, “I saw him pin down Trailcutter during a physical and you think he can’t do the same to you?”

He stopped that particular thought before it could go any further. His pride was now at stake. “I’m so much faster than Ratchet. He wouldn’t be able to get his hands on me.”

Swerve let out a dubious huff. “Listen, you asked me who would win and I told you it would be him. If you want to make up excuses to avoid the truth I don’t know why you bothered-”

“Yeah, whatever, thanks.” Rodimus scooped the pitcher to his chest and another cocktail of something black that wasn’t for him back to the table. He spilled a little when he nudged it toward Drift to share. “Who would win in a fight? Me or Ratchet?”

“Ratchet.”

“Why did you answer so fast? Did you even think about it?”

Drift shrugged and poured a bit from the pitcher into his glass. “Okay, let me think about it.” 

Rodimus wanted a good answer. Something reasonable. Ratchet might have had experience but the war had lessened drastically when he was in his prime. Sure he might have handled a few rambunctious patients but when was the last time he actually fought? Rodimus certainly hadn’t heard of anything happening lately. He wasn’t the one with servos of a dead mech or creaky joints that locked up. 

“Well?” Rodimus sipped at his obsidian cocktail and hummed. This was much nicer than the last. There were even little shining specks floating around for aesthetic. At least, he hoped it was for aesthetics. He didn’t actually know what this was.

“Ratchet.”

“ _Why_?”

Rodimus debated fighting his own friend when he held up a white hand and flipped up a single finger. “You’d underestimate him and he’d get you good for that alone.” Another finger came up, “He already knows how to incapacitate crazed mechs without hurting them so incapacitating someone he’d want to hurt would be that much easier.” Yet another finger rose, “He has those electric stinger things in his arms that could hold you to the ground-”

“Wait. No, when did Ratchet get a taser?”

“I don’t know. Apparently he’s always had them. When he was going through his old things he found them again and reattached them.” Drift tapped his lower lip in thought, “I think he reattached them. He might not have yet but I was there when-”

“If Ratchet gets a weapon in this hypothetical battle then I get one too.” He nearly choked on a mouthful of black highgrade to steel his growing ire and squared his shoulders. “Say I had a really nice sword-”

“Ratchet could still win. He could just take the sword. The stingers rely on magnets or something-”

“A shield then!”

“What part of _magnets_ are you not getting?”

Rodimus snapped his fist against the table and flicked out his hand. Drift was smiling, his silly fanged teeth bared as if he really believed Rodimus wouldn’t stand a chance. He thought this was funny and as much as Rodimus wanted to join him in the merriment he wanted at least one reason why he would be a challenge. “I have a really good grip. I wouldn’t let him take it from me.”

“Then he'll just drag you along with it and bring you closer. Then you’d be too close to use a shield or the sword and we’d be back at square one.”

“I could kick Ratchet’s aft and you know it!” Rodimus shrieked, spark whirling madly in its casing. “I could fight him.” He didn’t even realize how quickly he finished off the cocktail and poured some from the pitcher into the empty glass, drowning half of it he felt the high-grade kick in when the world began to feel sluggish. “What if I had a gun?” Rodimus could hardly remember what this was about anymore. Now it went to the fact of the matter that he could put up a fight and no one seemed to think he could.

Drift spluttered, his grin twitching at the edges as he tried to fight off his laughter. “A gun? You’d pull a gun on Ratchet?” Rodimus arched an optic ridge and Drift clapped his hands together and turned his gaze upward as if he were sending a silent prayer to Primus. “All right. Let's say you had a - a _gun_ to fight off Ratchet.” 

“Magnet’s can't get me faster than I can pull the trigger.”

“Okay, sure, let’s go with that.” He splayed his hands flat on the table and leaned closer, eyes shining with elation. “You know why that still wouldn’t work out?”

Rodimus wanted to hear this. He brought his face closer to Drift’s and hummed. “Your aim’s _shit_. You’d fire once and miss, and that’s all it would take for him to get his hands on you. And even if you did manage to wound him you wouldn’t kill him because I’ve seen him charge forward half-dead and he still wasn’t stopped.”

He hated this. He wanted to go back to his room and not think about anything. Not Swerve and Drift being stupid. Rodimus had fighting qualities. He had his own perks they weren’t taking into consideration. 

“Sorry but it’s the truth.” Drift put his hand over Rodimus’ and he yanked his servo away hissing. Drift didn’t take it personally and snickered, “Also, you think half the bots on this ship wouldn’t come for you in his defense? He’s put them all back together Primus knows how many times. If you started anything they’d stop you before it went too far.”

“So Ratchet gets his own little army to protect him.” He sniffed, “Sounds pretty cowardly.”

“Roddy, come on. Don’t be like that.” Drift folded his arms in front of him and watched him fondly, “What even brought this up? Did you and him get into an argument?”

“No. I…” Why did he even think about fighting Ratchet? “I don’t know. I don’t remember.” Must not have been that important. “I know how to fight.”

“I know how you fight, that’s why I’m saying you wouldn’t win.” Ouch. Rodimus sneered at him and stretched his upper half out on the table. He accepted the gentle pet to the top of his helm bitterly, “Besides, Ratchet’s hardly ever alone and our friends always separate us when we start up like that. Ultra Magnus would toss you in the brig faster than you could shutter an optic. Especially since they’re good friends. You know he-”

Rodimus shot upright as everything came back together. _Good friends._ “The videos.” Long ago they used to be more than ‘good friends.’ That’s what started all of this. Ratchet getting mad at him for keeping everything and watching what he knew he shouldn’t. Well, as long as he didn’t find out it wouldn’t matter. 

“What videos?”

He reared back and the world wobbled slightly, “Nothing. No videos.” He needed to get back to his room. If Ratchet was going to kick his ass regardless he might as well enjoy himself until he does. He jabbed a finger in Drift’s direction, growing louder when it was clear his attention was on something else across the room. “If it came down to it, one-on-one we might be evenly matched for a bit but I’d put Ratchet in his place.”

“And where might that be?” 

Rodimus whipped his head around to see Ratchet standing at the edge of the booth holding onto a small cylinder of pink liquid. Drift propped his chin on his folded hands with a catty smile and Rodimus couldn’t maneuver his legs well enough to kick him from under the table. “Do you think you could win in a fight against Rodimus?”

“Shut up, Drift. _Shut-_ ”

“Yes. What’d he do?” He couldn’t be here. Ratchet sat beside Drift and went to work digging his fingers into his shoulder to work out the kinks.

“I don’t know. He won’t tell me.”

“I’m out.” Rodimus wiggled out from the seat and stood for a moment to get his bearings. He had gone too hard too fast. If he acted suspicious Ratchet might start to look into the reason why. Peering over his shoulder at the medic he saw Ratchet wasn’t even looking at him, he was helping Drift finish off the pitcher he failed to drink. 

He took one step and staggered, shuttering his optics for a moment to get the room to stop spinning. “Primus,” Ratchet scoffed and Rodimus felt him press flush against his side, an arm on his shoulder to keep him steady, “Do you need help getting back to your room?”

“N-no.” He was about to push him away but remembered he had to keep his cool. “I’m good.”

Ratchet rolled his optics and turned to the table, “How long’s he been here?”

Drift laughed, “He literally just got here. I watched him throw back two mixes and half this pitcher in a matter of breems.”

“Drinking that fast means you’re either trying to work up the courage to do something, you’re trying to forget something, or you’re an idiot.” Ratchet put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes disapprovingly, “So which one is it?” Rodimus couldn’t think of what to say and Ratchet sighed, taking his vacated seat. “Well, don’t get yourself hurt. I’m off shift so you’ll be Aid’s problem at this point.” 

That was fine. Rodimus grunted and tried getting his legs working again, slowly calming down from the almost disaster. Ratchet didn’t know anything. Everything was still fine.

“You aft.” Ratchet suddenly spat, his vicious bite ruined by the laugh at the end. Rodimus took two steps and saw Ratchet had rivulets of pink going down his hand and the side of his glass. Drift was smiling about something but the details didn’t matter because when Ratchet failed to retrieve a clean rag from his subspace, he brought his wrist up to his mouth and _licked_ a long stripe along the side of his palm towards his thumb. “Go get me something for this.”

Taking in the casual curl of Ratchet’s lips as he pulled his mouth away from his servo, Rodimus could see what could have drawn Ultra Magnus and Optimus to him ages ago. He barely registered Drift sliding past him and only snapped back to reality when Ratchet frowned, “What is it?”

Rodimus shook his head and put one foot in front of the other, making his way out of the bar and into the cooler air of the hallway. He didn’t know how long it took him to make his way back to his room but he knew he had to refrain from calling Magnus no less than four times. He wanted to frag but knew his partner would take one look at him and refuse. It didn’t matter how badly he told him yes, if he even _thought_ Rodimus was inebriated they wouldn’t be doing anything except talking. Maybe some cuddling.

Rodimus felt...fuzzy at the idea. His Magnus, so very thoughtful and considerate. Back in his room he let himself fall on his bed and his arm knocked into the datapad. Instantly, all soft and tender feelings flew out of the window and all that remained was a simmering heat. 

It was fine if Magnus wasn’t here to help him. He’d probably take the datapad if he showed up and Rodimus wasn’t about to give it back until he saw everything the videos had to offer.

Settling on his belly and tucking a pillow beneath him, he propped the tablet against the wall. The video was still pulled up, paused right where he left off on Ratchet’s slackened face peering down at where Magnus was hilted, one of Optimus’ hands holding him open. Now that he wasn’t as lust ridden as he had been last night he noticed that Ratchet’s legs weren't just being held open so he could give Magnus some room but so the camera could get a good view of their arrays. Rodimus nestled himself deeper into the berth and hit play.

Ultra Magnus paused when he was fully seated and dropped his forehead against Ratchet’s, taking a moment to collect himself while Ratchet clung to him and moaned. Optimus kissed Ratchet’s audial and worked two fingers along the plump red valve lips spread obscenely wide, “How do you feel?”

“Pl _ease_.” Ratchet’s voice shook at the end and he rolled his hips higher, leaning into the teasing touches. 

Optimus hummed, the low sound rumbling through his chest he gathered up a bit of lubricant and smeared it across Ratchet’s anterior node. His arm tightened around his torso when he arched sharply and he was quick to punish him with a gentle bite to his shoulder. His hand trailed higher to cup the slight bulge in his belly and push down lightly. The pitiful sound Ratchet made had the two bigger bots perking up. “I didn’t get an answer.”

“Opt - please. _Magnus_.” Ratchet pulled the blue mech into a brief kiss, hands desperately tugging his face closer. He bumped their foreheads together, lips twitching as he tried to hide his smile. “I thought this was for me.”

“It is.” Magnus told him simply, grinding his hips hard against Ratchet. He tucked his face beneath Ratchet’s chin and kissed at his throat, “We merely wish for an answer.”

Rodimus couldn’t blame Ratchet for fumbling through his words. Optimus was still skirting around his anterior node without actually touching it and the hand Ultra Magnus wasn’t using to hold himself up cupped his face and drew him into a highly loving kiss, his hips slowly drawing back, his spike coated in a translucent dripping pink. 

“I feel…” Rodimus could practically follow how deep Magnus was pushing into him from this angle. Ratchet keened and fumbled for something to grab onto as his valve was stretched to the limit, lubricant oozing out of what miniscule space there was to leak messy trails down his body and onto Optimus’ legs. Optimus cooed softly to him, hand intertwining over the back of Ratchet’s, pushing his own palm flat against his lower stomach. Ratchet’s voice shook and faded as if he’d cry at any moment. “Very, very _full_.”

“Good.” Optimus tilted his chin to Magnus and he came forward by some unseen beckon, leaning over Ratchet’s frame to allow the two a brief moment to themselves. When they parted, Optimus was smiling - an honest, genuine smile Rodimus had never seen on the Prime before.

Magnus pried himself off of Ratchet to settle more comfortably on his knees, his legs tangled with theirs he hooked his hands over the tops of Ratchet’s thighs. With a nod to the Prime, Ultra slowly withdrew himself and rocked back in, then again, quicker. Ratchet held onto Optimus’ arm as Magnus picked up the pace, jostling him with every thrust, his legs jerking and twitching, unable to do much as he was held down by the two larger mechs.

Rodimus wanted to touch himself but he refused to get off on the same video twice. Not when there were two others he’d like to see. He knew how it felt though, when he finally worked himself open enough to sit down on that spike. Magnus never treated him so roughly though, and even if it was a video of his past self kissing on two other bots that weren’t him, the only real part of him that was jealous was how unrestrained he was being. He snapped his hips hard enough that there was an audible clap whenever they met, lubrication smearing across both of their pelvic arrays, a wetness that told Rodimus just how much Ratchet enjoyed this treatment.

“Are you still doing all right?” Optimus questioned in a surprisingly collected voice, as if he was unaffected by Ratchet’s moans and wiggling. Ratchet didn’t answer him, or he _couldn’t_. He nodded and babbled, fingertips digging hard into the Prime’s forearm while Magnus battered into him. Optimus took his lack of an answer with a soft sigh and nuzzled his neck, “You’re taking him so well, Ratchet.”

The medics optics blazed brightly and he shuttered them, teeth gritted as he let out a needy whine. Magnus slowed and gave shallow thrusts, the sounds of his vents sputtering as they switched into a higher gear. Optimus narrowed his optics into a half-shuttered stare towards Magnus, “How does he feel?”

“Small.” Ratchet’s moan caught in his throat. Magnus’ hands worked tenderly along his inner thighs and his legs twitched from the touch. “I can barely fit.”

“Hear that, Ratchet?” His answer was a breathless shudder. “Perhaps you could be more accommodating towards us?”

“P-perhaps,” Ratchet spat although it carried no weight. He squirmed and his legs tried closing but Magnus’ held them open again easily. “You two find some self control. I can’t handle both of you.”

Optimus grinned and nuzzled the side of his face, kissing his cheek and his temple. “We both know that isn’t true.” Optimus winked to Ultra, “Prove him wrong, Magnus.”

“Of course.”

Rodimus refused to touch himself, no matter how badly he wanted to. He squeezed his eyes shut as his valve clenched with want hearing his partner groan. Ratchet was whimpering, struggling to meet Magnus’ thrusts he eventually gave up and held onto Optimus for the ride. Optimus pushed himself up a bit to watch Ratchet get thoroughly _ruined_ and he peered up at Magnus, eyes blown bright and curious. Magnus whined and eagerly nodded, readjusting his grip on Ratchet’s thighs. Optimus smiled and pushed two fingers into Ratchet’s mouth, to which his digits were messily coated in oral lubrication, and brought them down to rub the anterior node he had been skirting around this entire session.

Ratchet came apart with a wail and Magnus’ stiffened, slamming his hips forward and grinding hard as he curled over his smaller lover and trembled. Ratchet shook and hooked his legs around Magnus when his lower half was freed, hips stuttering up against him to ride the crest of his overload.

Optimus worked him through it and only relented when Ratchet put his hand on the back of his wrist. The way he stroked his servo over Ratchet’s stomach was intimate, “Do you still feel full?” A staticy beep answered him. Magnus righted himself with a small stretch and the noise that came when he pulled out was obscene. Optimus cupped a hand between his legs and clicked his tongue, lifting his hand up to see it covered in their combined fluids. “How wasteful.”

Ratchet made a pitiful noise and when Magnus composed himself - not completely his fans were still running sharply and his spike was still at half mast - he slid two fingers inside of the medic and spread him apart. Tranfluid came dripping out of him easily and Magnus shook his head, “I was under the assumption you wanted this?” 

Ratchet brought a hand down to cover his valve but it was quickly nudged away. He wasn’t given the opportunity to speak as he was manhandled, legs pushed apart again and the top of Optimus’ dripping spike nestled between his valve lips. “Perhaps Optimus would be so kind as to replace what you have spilled.” 

Optimus Prime, grand leader of the autobots, nodded sagely, as if he were making a highly important decision. Once again he appeared unaffected, his actual arousal hidden on his face but obvious by the way his spike bobbed and dripped transfluid from the slightest touch thanks to Magnus. He jutted his chin outwards and side-eyed Ratchet. “I could...in exchange for a kiss.”

“You slaggers are insatiable!” His voice was still wobbly and the two looked at him fondly. He puffed himself up in embarrassment, “You both have some nerve-”

“Is that a no to the kiss?” Optimus asked softly.

Ratchet shot him a flat look and tried to turn his head to reach, successfully planting his lips against Optimus’ cheek. The Prime’s optics sparkled. “I-” Ratchet tensed and shut his eyes, releasing a breathy sigh as Magnus’ helped tilt his hips just enough so Optimus could sink his spike into his messy valve. 

Transfluid pushed out as Optimus pushed in and he moaned, nuzzing the medic. “You feel wonderful.” The garbled static coming from Ratchet as Optimus started a swift and borderline _desperate_ pace could have been words at one point. 

Magnus watched with a hazy smile that teetered on affectionate annoyance, he narrowed his eyes and abruptly moved away from them, his knees settling on the floor he draped his upper half over the side of the berth and rubbed two fingers along the outside of Optimus’ spike with every quick thrust. “You are incredibly messy.” Rodimus didn’t expect him to start licking their arrays, glossa wiping away the pink and white along their thighs, curling along pulsing biolights. He glanced up at them. “Is this the position you want to stay in?”

Optimus said something too low for the audio to pick up but whatever it was pleased both of them. Ratchet held onto Optimus as tightly as he had when Ultra Magnus was taking his turn, barely able to form a coherent thought. His body rolled and arched and Optimus started to follow suit, he pinned Ratchet to his body and shuffled closer on his side to get a different angle, reconsidering when he seemed to remember the camera. He slowed and Ratchet drawled his name, easily leaning into every grope and curve Optimus put him into to flaunt his body before he pounded into him at the newer angle.

Optimus made a fumbling grab for Magnus and coaxed him towards their arrays. He went willingly and whatever he had done was blocked by the back of his head but it had Ratchet crying out sharply before his vocalizer cut out. Optimus grit his teeth and rode him through it, eventually overloading when Magnus did something with his hands Rodimus desperately wanted to know.

Magnus sat upright and licked his lips, watching them for a moment before flinching and reaching for something out of sight. Optimus was lavishing gentle pecks along the side of Ratchet’s face, running his hands up and down Ratchet’s front and working at a spot on the lower half of his chassis that might have been a seam for him to open his chest plates.

Ultra cleared his throat and Optimus gave a final shudder before he easily hoisted Ratchet’s hips up and off of him. Ratchet was clearly a fan of being picked up and manhandled from the delighted purring coming from his chest. That too, however, was cut short when Ultra Magnus slid something wide and dark into his valve with an extra little push that only had a small amount of transfluid leaking out. Optimus ran a finger up and down the black plug and gave it a tap. Ratchet shivered and shut his interface array, his valve still no doubt tender. He made exactly one attempt to shoo away Optimus and Magnus when they suddenly crowded him to cover him in gentle touches and kisses, adoring his body that did actually summon a pulse of jealousy through Rodimus’ frame.

“So?” Optimus’ baritone voice rumbled out, a little shaky but otherwise clear.

It took Ratchet two tries to speak and he flicked one of Optimus’ antenna when he was finally able, “I’m fine.” He was bombarded with several more affectionate squeezes and pecks before he wiggled away from them and collapsed on a cleaner side of the berth. “It’s too hot for you to be doing that.” Ratchet rolled onto his stomach and groaned, burying his face into one of the pillows he felt along his lower half tenderly and shivered, the smallest of smiles on his lips. 

Ultra Magnus left to bring back a drink and handed it over, watching him take a few tired gulps although his attention was partially drawn to the mess on the sheets, his hands folded in his lap to avoid doing anything about it. Optimus caught his internal struggle and breathed out a laugh before waiting on Ratchet.

The two sat in silence, patiently watching Ratchet as he finished off the bottle and gave it a halfhearted toss into the floor. The medic worked at his own pace, neatly rearranging the pillows and tugging the blankets around him comfortably until he finally gave in. “All right, get over here.”

Oh, to be doted on by two massive mechs that wrecked his valve so thoroughly. The video ended with all three of them comfortably tangled together in an overheated pile and Rodimus allowed himself some time to breathe and run his fans to cool himself down. He felt like he had waited long enough to touch himself and after replaying his favorite scenes in his processor he gave into the needy ache and tapped on the second video.

He felt his curiosity increase tenfold when he saw Magnus sitting alone on a berth, white puffs rising from his smokestacks in a way that told him he was horrendously embarrassed. 

Ratchet’s voice called out from behind the camera, “You all right?” Magnus opened and shut his mouth, unable to voice himself, he settled for a resolute nod. Ratchet harrumphed and stepped around the camera with his hands on his hips. Magnus was the same height as him when he sat and Ratchet stretched himself a little taller so he could look down at him. “Use your words.”

“I am all right.” His optics met his gaze before they lowered to the floor.

When Ratchet leaned closer and used a single finger to tilt Magnus’ face upward, Rodimus let himself sneak his hand between his legs. If this video was all about Magnus he would do his best to avoid getting off before the end.

If he could. By the way Ultra Magnus’ optics brightened and dimmed, paired with a guilty, lopsided smile, he wasn’t sure how much he could watch before he came undone. 

Ratchet turned to the side and trailed a gentle line with the tip of his finger up to Magnus’ lower lip, arching an optic ridge when he failed to react. Spurred on by a questioning hum, Magnus opened his mouth to draw his finger over his glossa, the air above his smokestacks wobbling from the heat he exuded.

“There’s a good boy.”

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I gotta add more tags for the next chapter huh §ԾᴗԾ§


End file.
